


A Subtler Taste

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19283935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: A wine tasting, a former mayor and a tired cop, and their massive crushes on each other. What could go wrong (or perfectly right)?





	A Subtler Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my contribution for the Gobblepot Alliance event. I started this story more than 2 years ago, and it's finally finished (yeah, I'm THAT slow). Set somewhere in S3, but ignores most events anyway.
> 
> Many thanks to greenfairy13 for looking this over! :D
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! :)

Jim had been working hard for the past two weeks, only going home for short naps and to shower and change his clothes. He was practically living at the precinct, the GCPD’s bad coffee flowing in his veins instead of blood by that point. He wasn’t sure for how long he’d be able to keep up the pace, but Jim would never admit to anyone that he needed some time off, that all he wanted was to blow off some steam and just forget about all the criminals in Gotham. The opportunity to get away presented itself in an unexpected form. 

 

He had just closed a rather difficult homicide case, and was ready to go home earlier and spend the evening in the company of a bottle of cheap whiskey when Harvey called him into his office. Jim entered with his jacket slung over his arm, frowning as he watched Harvey standing in front of a mirror, trying to make his tie look presentable.

 

“Jim! Good job on the Jackson case, buddy. I know how hard you worked, so I wanted to reward you somehow.” With that, Harvey practically thrusted an envelope in Jim’s face.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“I got invited a while ago, but as acting captain, I have to attend the Police Academy’s gala tonight. So the invitation is yours.”

 

Jim stared at the fancy piece of paper, his exhausted brain not even registering at first what the gold letters were saying. “Wine and cheese tasting?”

 

“Yeah, they’re launching something or other, throwing a party to make people buy. Free food and booze, maybe you’ll meet a lady…” Harvey looked knowingly at Jim, as if to remind him that his love life was a joke.

 

“Thanks, Harv, but I don’t think this is my kind of thing,” Jim said, the thought of having to interact with people in his free time making him cringe.

 

“You think I haven’t noticed that you practically moved into the station? This is not right, Jim. You should go out more and have fun.”

 

“Really, I don’t think I’d find this fun.”

 

Harvey sighed. “Come on, Jimbo. You’d do me a great favour, someone from the GCPD has to show up and I can’t be in two places at the same time,” he said and put his hand on Jim’s shoulder, appealing to his good nature. “Here’s the deal: if it is really that terrible, I’ll take you out for some drinks next week.”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“Help a friend in need.”

 

Jim sighed; he knew that Harvey would beg until he accepted the invitation. “Alright. But you owe me a sixpack even if the evening won’t be that terrible.”

 

“Deal. Do try to have some fun. It doesn’t hurt, ya know?”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Jim didn’t have time to go home and change his suit as he’d originally planned. Nothing ever worked out well in Gotham; the bad guys always struck at the most inconvenient times possible. He was not quite sure what pursued him in the end to go to the event instead of just going home; sure, he had somewhat promised Harvey, but he feared the answer was loneliness, and he preferred to toss that thought into a deep recess of his mind. So he drove to the address indicated on the invitation, which he discovered was actually outside of Gotham. Of course, he should have realised that a wineyard would not be in the middle of the city.

 

As soon as Jim entered, he knew that he was underdressed for the event. Very much so. His shabby, battered suit stood out among the freakishly expensive cocktail dresses, fancy jewelry, and well-tailored suits. Even the greeter who took his invitation looked at him with an air of disdain. But Jim had promised Harvey to stay and represent the GCPD, and he told himself he wouldn’t leave without having at least one glass of free booze. He scanned the room, but obviously, this crowd was not his scene – he’d only recognised some of them, and even so only from the papers.

 

Jim was about to retreat to one of the corners of the room where the wine table was set up when he noticed someone familiar standing there already. His brain stopped working the instant he recognised Oswald Cobblepot. Even though he certainly knew everyone in the room, especially after his – admittedly short – run as mayor, Oswald was standing alone with a wine glass in his hand and fidgeting with the hem of his indigo jacket. In his moment of quiet contemplation, he seemed robbed of his usual confidence, sticking out like a sore thumb. Jim was struck by the familiarity of the feeling he exuded.

 

But then Oswald’s sad gaze fell on Jim, and it was as if Jim were his deepest, most burning desire, suddenly materialised in front of his eyes. Even his lips parted slightly, and Jim felt a rush of blood to his cheeks, something inside of his chest that he’d been trying to suppress for months expanding with alarming rapidity, constricting his ribs almost painfully. Jim hadn’t had a single sip of wine yet, but he felt tipsy already.

 

He didn’t understand why Oswald was always so kind to him, even after all those times Jim had acted like an asshole. Just recently, about three weeks ago, he had refused Oswald’s invitation to a charity auction, even though this had been an official one, a collaboration between various organisations, so no one would accuse him of being chummy with the enemy had he accepted. At least he had the excuse of the Jackson case, which was public enough for Oswald to had at least vaguely heard of somewhere, in case he wasn’t following Jim’s activities (which Jim was quite sure that he was).

 

“Oswald,” the detective said as he stepped closer, nodding at him.

 

“Jim! What a surprise! I didn’t know you’re a wine person,” Oswald said, almost knocking his glass over in eagerness as he placed it on the table, grasping Jim’s offered hand, covering it gently with his other hand.

 

“I’m not,” Jim grunted, his chest feeling even tighter as he glanced at their clasped hands. “Harvey couldn’t come, so he asked me. What about you, why are you hiding here? I thought you enjoyed this kind of events.”

 

Oswald shuffled his feet, avoiding Jim's eyes. “Well, normally yes, but they aren’t as fun alone.”

 

Jim was confused; he was certain Oswald knew everyone present, and that they knew him too. Surely, he wouldn't have issues finding someone to chat with. A couple passed them and while Oswald nodded at them politely, both of them looked away, pretending not having seen him. Jim frowned as he observed Oswald’s face fall for a second. The former mayor looked away, taking a sip of wine from his glass before he looked back at Jim with the same quiet mirth, though his gaze was damper.

 

“So which wine should I start with? I don’t really know them.”

 

Maybe Harvey was right and he did have a soft spot for Oswald, since he knew what such a question,  _ invitation _ , would bring with itself. He would not be able to get rid of Oswald all evening. He tried to ignore the little voice rejoicing about it, and instead focused on his hope that the wines would be good enough to help him through this event and his strange desires revolving around a mobster.

 

Oswald gaped at him for a second before he set his glass down and looked over the table way too seriously. His fingers fluttered in the air as he made his decision, choosing a bottle of red. 

 

“You should try this Port I’m drinking. I assume it’s not what you would usually go for, and I’m also breaking etiquette here by starting with a dessert wine,” he said conspiratorially, leaning towards Jim with a cheeky smile, as if he was committing something deliciously wicked. 

 

Jim's eyes were drawn to Oswald’s hand, the crystal glass scintillating in the light of the chandelier as he swirled the ruby liquid. 

 

“It’s strong, some would say overpowering, but the sweetness is there and it will reveal hidden aromas if you allow it to develop. It’s decadent and rich, and gives you a buzz. Gets under your skin.”

 

Jim raised his eyebrow as he took the glass from Oswald, trying to ignore the shudder that went through him when their fingertips touched. “Thanks.”

 

He wanted to laugh at the description and wondered if Oswald had realised that it sounded like one of… himself. He took a big swig, relishing the taste with closed eyes. When he opened them, he found Oswald looking at him indignantly.

 

“You're supposed to smell it before! And enjoy it in small sips.”

 

Oswald looked so funny being appalled over Jim's non-existent wine manners that the detective had to smirk at him before he emptied the glass, raising his eyebrows challengingly. “I really needed a drink.”

 

Oswald sputtered, but before he could teach Jim better, a representative of the company invited them to have a seat as the presentation would start soon. Jim was certain he normally would have been placed somewhere in the back, but being associated with Oswald probably granted him a better position, so they got a table a bit to the side, but at the front.

 

“Good evening,” Oswald greeted the other people at the table and Jim followed his lead, but their neighbours barely spared them a haughty look. 

 

Jim saw that Oswald’s eyes darkened, so he quickly touched his arm and then took the chair out for him.

 

“Oh, so polite of you,” Oswald breathed, offense forgotten, a beautiful smile forming on his lips.

 

Involuntarily, Jim smiled back at him, and if it were possible, Oswald’s smile became even wider. Judging by the butterflies in his stomach, Jim needed to be careful. He couldn't let his well-maintained control slip away. Luckily, the presentation started soon, so the detective didn’t have to think further about his  _ inappropriate  _ feelings for Mr Cobblepot.

 

The company was launching a new line of natural cosmetics, prepared with the plants grown on their lands. Jim wasn’t particularly interested, but from the corner of his eye he saw the waiters and waitresses setting up the buffet with all kinds of delicacies. He realised then that he hadn’t eaten anything since the croissant he’d had in the morning, so he was looking forward to the free food.

 

“Those things look good, don’t they?” Oswald whispered, leaning in.

 

Jim grunted. “I hope the presentation is over soon.”

 

Oswald snorted, and Jim had to shush him when their neighbours stared at them. He felt like a mischievous pupil. The presenter was droning on about a hand cream with olive oil and lavender and she asked some of the guests to try it. Oswald, too, put a dab on his hands, smiling as the pleasant aroma reached his nose.

 

“This smells nice,” he said, and extended his hand towards Jim.

 

The detective ignored it with a frown, but Oswald sticked it to his face, so Jim’s fingers wrapped around his slender wrist to stop it from clawing his cheek. He inhaled the sweet perfume while his fingers caressed Oswald's smooth skin inadvertently. The intimacy of the gesture only hit him when he looked up into Oswald's eyes, wide with surprise. He let go, rubbing his face while avoiding Oswald's gaze. He blamed it on his mind, rife with similar and cheekier fantasies.

 

Luckily, the presentation ended soon and the representatives invited the guests to try the wines and various dishes, after which they could, of course, purchase their products. Most people got up and attacked the tables, so Oswald and Jim stayed behind for a while, watching as the pianist hired by the company set up and started playing light songs.

 

“I think the wine table is okay now,” Jim said after a few minutes and they walked over with their glasses.

 

“You’re only here for the booze, aren’t you, Jim?”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jim replied even as he poured a generous glass of the Port for himself, smirking at Oswald’s scandalised expression, who only got about a digit of the ruby liquid in his glass, the acceptable quantity for the event and company. “Don't tell me you're not.”

 

“Well, I do have more time on my hands since I lost the mayoral seat.”

 

Oswald said it in a flat tone which made Jim look up. Someone who didn't know him wouldn't have thought about it twice, but Jim could see the hurt. “I will deny ever having said this, but I thought you were a pretty decent mayor.”

 

Jim watched the other side of the room, lips twitching upwards when he felt Oswald's intense gaze on himself.

 

“That's… very kind of you to say, Jim. Thank you.”

 

He grunted, pointing out to Oswald that the table laid with food was less crowded. They marvelled at the variety: there were various types of jam, chees, olive tapenade, bread, olive oil, grapes, dry fruit cakes and oranges. Jim was salivating and proceeded to laden his plate with everything. Oswald was more humble, taking only small bites. The gangster tried to reach for the fruit platter, but it was too far from him.

 

“Here,” Jim said, taking the platter and holding it up for Oswald.

 

“Thank you, James.”

 

Oswald took pear and oranges slices and also some grapes with his fork. Jim always found it fascinating and even amusing that Gotham's most feared gangster was so prim and proper. He enjoyed it even more when he could ruffle Oswald's feathers, so he took one of the grapes from Oswald’s plate and popped it into his mouth.

 

“Jim!”

 

The detective grinned at him, reaching for another fruit, but Oswald was faster, smacking his hand away. “You thief!”

 

Jim couldn't help but smile, and he knew it wasn't the wine that had improved his mood so much. He put down the fruit platter, then took Oswald's wine glass too, to help him. “Should we go back to the table?”

 

“Yes, let's go.”

 

Their neighbours were already seated, engaged in a discussion revolving around their yachts. Jim instantly tuned them out, starting to eat, but Oswald tried to get in a word here and there, though he looked ever more miserable and annoyed since he was repeatedly ignored. Jim’s chest constricted strangely, then he decided to use an effective method: distraction. 

 

“Have you tried the bread? It's so good.”

 

Jim wanted to smack himself in the face. His new topic was bread? Oswald looked at him, confused, but not upset. So Jim went on. “It goes very well with the olive oil, especially the one infused with lemon.”

 

Despite the doubts clearly showing on his face, Oswald humoured Jim, breaking a piece of bread and dipping it lightly in the oil. His eyes lit up as he started chewing it while Jim watching him eagerly.

 

“It's nice, a bit strong and simple at the beginning, but then the subtle lemon aroma comes through. And the bread, such a tough shell, but it's nice and soft on the inside. A bit like you,” he added after a moment, almost imperceptibly.

 

Jim had no words. He pushed his overloaded plate closer. “Try this cheese, it's really tasty too.”

 

Food was a somewhat safe topic, and Oswald seemed to have forgotten about his woes, so he gave Jim and their dinner his full attention. They were sampling everything and Oswald hummed in appreciation for both of them, Jim nodding in agreement with his assessments. After all, Oswald as much better with words than he.

 

It was while they were trying the tapenade when Oswald made a quiet remark. “James, I meant to congratulate you on your latest case. I heard it was a difficult one.”

 

“Yeah, I'm just really glad it's over. It was… terrible.”

 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to remind you of work, you just caught that killer so quickly, it was very impressive.”

 

“It's alright,” Jim said, his hand briefly brushing against Oswald's, proudly noting that it made the gangster blush. “Maybe it's the wine talking, but I'd rather be here than at the station. Despite our neighbours.”

 

“Tell me about it. They're awful, aren't they?” Oswald threw them a disdainful look.

 

“Talking about their yachts and luxurious cars, as if anyone else who doesn't have such things is just dirt under their shoes.”

 

Oswald nodded, eyes lighting up. Jim recognised that cheeky twinkle that filled his stomach with butterflies.

 

“The man sitting next to you is cheating on his wife with the lady in the red dress. The husband of the lady in the red dress knows about it, and he plans to take all his money and then divorce, leaving them penniless.”

 

Jim’s lips quirked upwards. Oh, he liked a game when he saw one. “What about the next table? The red-haired lady looks very bored of her husband.”

 

Oswald smirked. “I'm sure she didn't marry him for his good looks.”

 

They were watching the others with rapt attention. Jim noticed the red-head kept glancing at the blonde woman sitting next to her. She was subtle, but Jim knew that kind of look. He sometimes feared others would recognise it on his face around a certain mobster.

 

“She's fine, no need to worry about her… I think she and her neighbour are more than friends,” Jim said with the confidence of a man with superior knowledge.

 

Oswald furrowed his brows. “The blonde lady's boyfriend?”

 

Jim laughed. “No, the blonde lady herself.”

 

“What? No, that's… it can't be.”

 

“Have you seen the way they smile at each other?”

 

Oswald fell silent, a look of concentration on his face. The two men got up to go outside for a smoke, giving Jim and Oswald the perfect opportunity to watch the two ladies being on their own. Once the men were out of sight, the demeanour of the women changed: they leaned into each other and started whispering like old confidants. Then the red-head took the blonde woman's hand, intertwining their fingers under the table.

 

Jim smiled smugly at Oswald, as only a man who had been right would.

 

“They look quite sweet together,” Oswald said, eyes wistful, before turning towards Jim. “Well, no wonder you're the best detective in the city.”

 

A blush crept up Jim’s neck, but he liked to think it was merely a consequence of consuming too much wine, not Oswald's appreciative words. It was actually quite hot and stuffy in the room, and Jim watched Oswald remove his jacket and neatly hang it on the back of his seat. He looked away before he was caught staring at Oswald’s arms, taking a sip of wine.

 

“I wish every case was so easy. And innocent.” He hated bringing up work, but how could he not? His whole life practically revolved around it.

 

“If there's anything I can help you with-”

 

Oswald didn't get to finish his sentence, for their neighbours were discussing pertinent matters rather loudly.

 

“-and that Jackson case, such a disgrace. The killer was out there murdering high society ladies. I couldn't sleep for weeks!” Jim’s neighbour, an elderly lady embellished with pearls and feathers, said.

 

Her husband continued even more fervently. “The GCPD definitely took their time catching him. You'd think such a ruthless monster would be their number one priority.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes; he was accustomed to hearing derogatory things about the police, in particular since the press hadn't been on their side during the whole charade, inciting hatred and derision in the public.

 

“The GCPD have done everything in their power. Some serial killers are only arrested years later, or they are never caught, but this one was apprehended in a month. That's quite a record, and we should be grateful that they restored our safety.”

 

Jim could practically feel Oswald trembling with suppressed irritation, which flamed up even more when their neighbours seemed disinterested in what he had to say.

 

“Hogwash, they only did it after there's been some pressure on them from the mayor and the press,” one of the old men said, waving his hand.

 

It was clear that these people had no idea who Jim was or how much he'd worked to catch the killer. Perhaps his guilt surpassed his indignation, since three women had died before he caught the killer. In comparison, Jim was surprisingly calm and detached compared to Oswald, whose nostrils flared and gaze hardened.

 

“You have no idea who this man beside me is, do you? He’s James Gordon, the man who caught the serial killer, the best detective this city has ever had. You should show him some respect, and thank him for all the hard work he’s done to protect you and the city from all the lunatics running around.”

 

Jim put his hand on Oswald's forearm. “It's alright, it's not worth working yourself up over it.”

 

Oswald looked at him, his gaze intense. “I can't stand them disparaging your work.”

 

“It's okay,” Jim murmured and patted Oswald's arm. Deep down, he was very pleased that Oswald had stood up for him and the GCPD.

 

Oswald turned back towards the others, resuming in a calmer voice.“You should look behind the façade of what the press wants you to believe, and what that lousy new mayor says.”

 

“Ah, so that's where the problem lies,” the other man said with a sleazy smile. “Jealous of the new mayor, aren't you, Mr Cobblepot? How long were you at City Hall? Two weeks?”

 

The group erupted in derisive laughter. Oswald got up, the legs of his chair scratching the wooden floor so loudly that it attracted the attention of the other guests. He sauntered off without a single word, which concerned Jim greatly.

 

“Definitely longer than any of you have been,” Jim finally snapped as he quickly got on his feet, afraid that Oswald would slip away. He had to teach these arrogant people a lesson, though. “You have statistics to prove that crime went down significantly during his time. So maybe you should do some research first before you talk shit.”

 

Jim could feel everyone’s gaze on him, but he only cared about Oswald. Their eyes locked across the room, the noise of their surroundings faded into the background. There was no mistake, Oswald had heard his little rant, his eyes could never lie.

 

As if attracted by a magnet, Jim crossed the space in no time. There was some distance between them, neither of them sure how to proceed. Jim was slightly anxious that he would just lounge forward and press his lips against Oswald's, but that might not have been the smartest idea, not in front of all these people.

 

“Thank you for standing up for me.”

 

Oh fuck it, Jim’s resolve crumbled in a second. He couldn’t take the look in Oswald’s eyes and closed the gap between them. Jim reached out, stroking Oswald’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “You'd do it for me too. In fact, already did it.”

 

They stared at each other with unfiltered adoration, their lips meeting in a brief kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jim knew they were barely shielded from the other guests, but he didn’t want to step away, didn’t want there to be any distance between them.

 

“Jim?” Oswald sounded timid all of a sudden, his hand seeking Jim’s.

 

“Yeah?” Jim rasped, lips grazing Oswald’s cheek, his thumb stroking the gangster’s hand soothingly. 

 

"I don't really want to go back, not to those people. Would you maybe like to go somewhere else? I know it's late, and you have to work tomorrow, so I understand if you can't-"

 

"Yeah, that'd be great," Jim whispered, his response stopping Oswald’s nervous stuttering.

 

"My place? I have wine."

 

Jim wanted to say that he didn't care where they went, it wasn't the wine that he was interested in, but he just smiled against Oswald’s cheek and kissed it quickly before they finally left all the snobs behind. Jim kept his hand between Oswald’s shoulder blades while the gangster called his driver to pick them up.

 

"He'll be here in five minutes," Oswald said, then rubbed his arms.

 

"Are you cold?"

 

"A bit. I left my jacket inside."

 

Jim frowned. "I'll go and get it."

 

Oswald stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, Jim, it's alright. I don't want you to have to see them again.” Then he gifted Jim with a mischievous smile. “Besides, we had a pretty dramatic exit. Don’t ruin it."

 

Jim laughed with his head thrown back. Oh yes, they ran off and then kissed in front of Gotham’s elite. What a scandal. "Alright, then put on this." Jim proceeded to take off his own jacket and wrap it around Oswald, hands lingering on the lapels, wanting nothing more than to stay like that forever.

 

It took only one affectionate look from Oswald, and then Jim brought him closer by the lapels, slotting his lips against the gangster's. Oswald was only surprised for a moment, but he didn't waste any time, and put his arms around Jim's neck, his lips so soft and perfect. The wine tasted even sweeter on his lips, and Jim thought he could easily become a wine enthusiast this way.

 

Oswald was so gentle, the way his hands were caressing Jim's face and his hair, fingers brushing through it, sending tingles through the detective’s body. Jim was buzzed, he reasoned, or he wouldn't have moaned so shamelessly. He pressed on, his tongue slipping between Oswald's lips as he pushed the gangster against the wall at the same time. They had wanted this for so long, now their desires were spilling out, taking over their whole world.

 

There was no air in Jim's lungs, though, and he broke the kiss, but stayed close, kissing Oswald's cheek on a downward trajectory to his neck, getting intoxicated on his amazing cologne.

 

"Jim, oh…"

 

Encouraged, Jim playfully bit Oswald's neck.

 

"Fuck,  _ James _ …"

 

Their little game would have continued were it not for the bright headlights disrupting their activities in their little alcove. Jim broke the kiss reluctantly, but kept an arm around Oswald’s waist. He couldn't help it, the gangster just looked too good with red lips and eyes shining so brightly. 

 

Oswald was about to return the jacket, but Jim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Keep it." He wanted to add that Oswald looked cute in it, but doubted the compliment would be well received or even believed.

 

Oswald wrapped it around himself more tightly, discreetly sniffling the traces of Jim’s scent and cologne. He looked lost in his own world for a moment, then peered over at Jim as he opened the limousine door. "You're still in for the wine tasting?"

 

"Of course." Jim held the door open for Oswald, then got in himself. He grinned when he noticed that the partition was up. He licked his lips in anticipation. "You know, we could start right away."

 

“A brilliant idea, detective.” Oswald smiled and scooted closer to Jim.

 

Indeed, they never got to taste any of Oswald’s actual wine from his impressive collection, but neither of them minded, as they were more than happy to kiss the subtler taste off of each other’s lips.


End file.
